On Sunday, we spent the afternoon in the comfort of a lovely home in Long Ashton, the village where we got married. Some friends from church had invited us to lunch.
Their cottage is such a lovely place to escape to, where they tend a trio of gregarious sheep, a chicken having trouble laying eggs, and a loveable dog called Bruno. We were treated with a delicious roast lunch and a gently warming fire while the Winter rain poured down outside.
As we set to make tracks home, Barbara, our host, donned her head torch & picked up a pair of secateurs - not the usual attire of a host bidding her guests farewell. The reason for the torch & garden tools? To cut us a cluster of flowers to bring home.
We drove home, John, safely navigating through the rain, Ben in the back, and me in the passenger seat, gently clutching my collection of snow drops, iris & winter sweet, my head being pulled by the weight of sleep and raindrops rolling down the flowers, cooling my hands. A perfect end to a restful weekend.